The Mayor of Hobbiton knew maps were for planning.

He'd never had a head for maps as a youngster, but putting one foot in front of another had a way of making chicken scratch on parchment come to mean more than a sore head. Elrond and Strider and Frodo and Merry had pored over maps, making plans that had come to naught. Late nights, he would trace out the paths that the Fellowship had really taken. A fingertip here to touch a night of fear; a handspan there to measure a month of misery.

Sam knew maps were for remembering.

The DM of the RINGS is now finished!

Go.

Read.

Giggle.

But between shirebound's birthday and belegcuthalion's birthday I thought to at least give it a try... Think of it as being in the same timeline as "Chosen".

( A Little Birthday Fluff )

My furnace is not working properly. It's sixty degrees F (15.5C) in my apartment and has been since yesterday morning. Seeing as how this is the week that winter finally decided to show up in Boston, and my windows leak, it's not been the best of mornings. But I'm skipping work to wait for the plumber, and I have DVDs and hot chocolate, so I will survive.

Wrote a drabble for one of surgicalsteel's characters. It's over here.

Man, I miss writing drabbles. Here's hoping inspiration will nudge me again.

( Edited to add the drabble: )

Gacked from aragorn_reader

Whether you have ever played D&D or not, if you like Lord of the Rings you have got to check out this! *snicker*

(Warning... put the coffee down.)


And edited to add (because I'm awake now...) belegcuthalion has completed The Keeper of the Jewels! And it's quite wonderful, really. I just reread the whole thing from the beginning. *sigh* It's nice to fall into a story like that.

Belegcuthalion's wonderful Sam-napping is up to chapter 7!

http://belegcuthalion.livejournal.com/101640.html

Go! Read! It's a great chapter, especially for Frodo fans, I'm sure. But oh, oh, oh! Sam and Aragorn are for it now!

http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/243852.html -- part one
http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/245239.html -- part two
http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/246353.html -- part three
http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/247905.html -- part four
http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/250111.html -- part five

( part six )

http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/243852.html -- part one
http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/245239.html -- part two
http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/246353.html -- part three
http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/247905.html -- part four
( part five )

http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/243852.html#cutid1 -- part one
http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/245239.html#cutid1 -- part two
http://rabidsamfan.livejournal.com/246353.html#cutid1 -- part three

( part four )

http://gardnerhill.livejournal.com/11426.html

Trust me...

A longer version of something I posted here

Movieverse, WIP...

( Five More Days to Rivendell )

I have an idea, but I'm not sure if it works. Can anyone direct me to the letters/stories/sections of the Silmarillion etc. which deal with Elves coming back to Middle Earth the way Glorfindel did? (If that possibility falls into bits, I've got a second one, but I'd like to start there.)

thx.

The Price of Power

The order has come.

An army must be built worthy of Mordor, and nothing can stand in its way, not even the trees which are the pride of Isengard. Trees I have nourished from seed and sapling. Trees I have conversed with in the long slow speech of the Ents. But trees are not an army, and an army I must have, weaponed and armored.

The trees are strong, my orcs tell me. Their roots go deep. They cry out to me, asking “why” in deep, bewildered tones as they fall.

The forges must be fueled.

“Rip them all down.”

I've been frustrated trying to get at the LotR adds on the TBS website, but serai1 and eleanorgardner have come to the rescue. Go. Click. Laugh...

http://elanorgardner.livejournal.com/183079.html

Once upon an evening dreary
While I pondered sick and weary
Sick and weary of the healthy
broth upon my dinner tray --
Wishing for a proper pudding
Or a roast beef sandwich swimming
In a lovely lake of gravy
Mashed potatoes by the score,
Suddenly there came a tapping
Of some person gently rapping
Shave and haircut came the signal
Signal on my chamber door
“Who’s that knocking?” soft I whispered,
Lest the Ranger-Healer heard me
Came the answer, “Only me,” and nothing more.

“Have you brought me apple dumplings?
Pease and lentils, eggs and bacon?
Have you brought me something tasty?
Beer and pretzels, to my door?”
Wide the chamber door it opened,
Standing there was faithful Samwise,
With his pockets bulging sidewise,
In his hands a plate of sausage,
Sausage pink and raw and horrid,
Nothing like my dreams of yore.

“I shall starve,” I groaned in sorrow,
Looking at that uncooked sausage,
Knowing that I could not eat it,
Without repercussions, repercussions by the score.
But “Hush” he said and nothing more.

To the hearth he crept so quickly
That I did not catch his meaning,
There beside the fire he brought out
Toasting forks and rolls of bread.
“Just you wait,” my Samwise said.

Soon the smells of sausage cooking
Filled my room with golden promise
Out of bed I clambered quickly
Stuffed a bolster ‘gainst the door,
Lest the scent betray our feasting
Bring some scolding, meddling wizard,
Bring some cousins wanting shares
From our small and precious store.
Propped a chair beneath the handle,
Knew we two would soon by candle-
Light be eating all our plunder,
Nice and hot, and full of grease.

Bother Rangers! Bother Wizards!
They have not a Shireling’s knowledge,
Nor a halfling’s common sense,
Forget the trays of simple fare
Broth and toast and tasteless cheese.
Full stomachs do a hobbit ease!



Just a bit of silliness I wrote for febobe

suggested revisions/improvements/additions are perfectly welcome!

I suppose I ought to be afraid. I mean, last time a tree grabbed me it was Old Man Willow, and I was scared enough that time, even though I didn’t have it as bad as Merry did. I was just inside and scared, not being pinched in two. Come to think of it, Merry should even be more scared than I am, but there’s something about Treebeard that feels good, for all that he’s not sure whether we’re Orcs. We didn’t meet anything like him in the Old Forest.

Or did we?

I wonder if he knows Tom Bombadil?


danachan wanted Pippin

He fell, birthblind, and lay still, listening to the stars wheel endlessly above him as the long bones grew. After a time he could see one hand: first pink and small, then graceful and white for scarcely a moment before the familiar wrinkles filled themselves in like ink-scratches on an unfinished drawing. In a distant way he remembered his task, unfinished, and the death that had interrupted his quest.

Why had he been sent back here, to cold stone and snow, and not to the warm Elven groves below the mountain?

There!

A glint of gold, a ruby bright.

Narya.





claudia603 wanted LotR

Sam’s hands are always busy, twitching Frodo’s regalia straight, or fixing his tea properly, or providing a thousand other small comforts through the day. They are seldom still unless Frodo catches them, as he does now, to tell Sam that he, too, must take some comfort. Not even the loss of a finger impairs their understanding, so long have these two spoken to each other with hands as well as words. It is a language as secret as Khuzdûl, a grasp passing secrets here, a touch blessing cheek or shoulder there.

But I think that Legolas may know a dialect.



cara_chapel wanted F/S

“Hush now, Sam,” he whispers, and I try to hush, knowing that linen walls won’t keep much away from the men who guard this grove. I’m not even sure why I’m crying, except that I can. It’s been a long time since it was safe to cry. But I’d like to stop, before someone fetches Strider from his bed.

“Hush,” he says again, turning to fold me in his arms, and at last the sobs ease and I can breathe a bit between shudders of leftover sorrows. I could stay like this forever.

His kiss follows me into my dreams.


trilliah wanted F/S

We’re on our way north again, at last, and it feels strange to have the sun shining on the right side of my face of a morning, after all that long journey south. Mr. Merry, he can’t seem to stop telling folks about the Brandywine, and Mr. Pippin’s fretting that he’ll miss his mam’s summer pies, and me, I just keep talking about my Gaffer, and wondering how he’s managed the digging alone. But I don’t think you’ve said two words about Bag End. Nor Crickhollow neither. But I know you’re homesick too.

Tell me again about Rivendell and Bilbo.


jewelsong, this one is for you.

Do you ever wish things were different, Sam?

Different, Mr. Frodo?

If I didn’t have the Ring, I mean.

Well, Mr. Lotho’d have it then, seeing as how he’d’ve been Mr. Bilbo’s heir, and a fine time Gandalf would have had talking him out the door with it, too. He’s never been one for sleeping rough. I expect he’d’ve complained all the way to Rivendell.

I never thought of it that way. I was thinking… well… if Bilbo hadn’t found it.

Something meant him to, by what I heard at the Council, and wishing wouldn’t change that. I daresay I wouldn’t have enjoyed the walk so much if it had been Mr. Lotho, though it would have been a chance to get shut of his ma, and that’s the truth.

What? Would you have gone with Lotho?

As much as I’ve wanted to see Elves all my days? Can’t say as I would have told Gandalf no if he asked me, and if Mr. Lotho were Master at Bag End all those years I expect I would have got used to his ways. I don’t know as I would have ever seen Lorien, though, once having got an eyeful at Rivendell, and the road home plain as daylight. O’course, Mr. Bilbo offered, and I’d have gone with him quick enough. But I can’t see as Mr. Lotho would have volunteered, what with Black Riders and all.

They could have given the Ring to an Elf.

Seems like it’s a job for a hobbit, from all I heard. The ones that want It can’t be trusted with it and the ones that can be trusted don’t want It. So it’s just as well. Like as not they’d have thought I should take it, and then we’d all be in the soup.